


Lost for one moment

by mistressterably



Series: One offs - Doctor Who related [14]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Sickfic, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 17:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4675109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistressterably/pseuds/mistressterably
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling a tumblr anon prompt: Clara comes home from work to find the Doctor in her bedroom disoriented, not knowing who he is. A sic fic with smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost for one moment

Clara was about to enter her flat when she heard some noises coming from inside. It wasn’t an evening that she had been expecting the Doctor so she took a few deep breaths, ready for anything. Flinging open the door, the Doctor jumped back with a panicked screech. Clara was equally surprised. ‘Doctor! What are you doing here?’

‘Who?’ He peered at her with a blank look on his face. 

‘Doctor?’ Clara looked at him, her eyes narrowing. 

‘Who?’ He asked again, the blank look getting blanker. 

‘That’s you.’ 

‘Me?’

‘You.’ She pointed at him. ‘Stop playing about Doctor. You know I don’t get upset by you showing up on the wrong day as much as before.’

‘Doctor who?’ He asked again. 

‘I’m really not in the mood this evening, Doctor.’ Clara told him, tiring of his fooling about. ‘I’ve had a bad day at work and I’m behind on my marking. There will be no travelling tonight.’

‘Who are you?’ He asked. 

‘You’re serious?’ She looked at him, trying to understand. Clara noted that he kept scratching at the back of his neck. ‘You’re the Doctor. The TARDIS is where? In my living room?’

‘Tardis?’ He still didn’t register any form of recognition.

‘I’m Clara. Do you remember me at all?’ She asked, stepping closer to him slowly. He fidgeted a bit but didn’t shy away.  
‘Needed somewhere safe.’ More scratching at the back of his neck. His eyebrows beetled together, trying to focus on something that she couldn’t see. ‘This is safe, here?’

‘Yes, Doctor. You’re safe here. Where’s the TARDIS?’ She asked again. 

‘Just needed to be safe.’ He reached out to her. ‘Clara? That’s your name?’

‘Yes, I’m Clara. You’re the Doctor.’

He pressed a hand against his forehead, a look of pain in his eyes. ‘I don’t know. I need a doctor maybe. I’m not a doctor. Or.. I could be. I can’t recall.’ He started to pace about in the short hallway. ‘You! You must be one! Doctor’s are always safe. And this is safe. Here. Now. Must be why I’m here. Oh my head!’ He rubbed hard at his head, more furious scratching at the the back of his neck. 

‘You’re name is the Doctor.’ Clara told him, daring to take hold of his forearm and stop him scratching so hard. ‘Is there something wrong with your neck?’

‘Just itchy. Like my head. Itchy. Can’t really.. ‘ He squeezed his eyes shut and then snapped them open. ‘Focus. Can’t focus. Jumping about in my head.’ The Doctor rubbed his hands through his hair, making it more chaotic than normal. ‘My name is Doctor? That makes no sense.’

‘It is, that’s what I call you. Doctor.’

‘Can’t help myself.’ He looked scared. ‘But you’re safe, yeah?’ 

‘I am, Doctor. I’m safe. I’ll help you all I can.’

He smiled at her, a bit of relief begin to creep into his face. Reaching out, he gently touched her cheek, his eyes widening. ‘I can feel it. Here.’ He touched his hearts, instinct still there. ‘You are safe. Drew me here.’ Another wince in his face and he scratched the back of his neck again. 

‘Let me have a look. You keep scratching.’ Clara walked round behind him, getting him to lean forward. There was a large red welt just under the mass of silver curls at his neck line. ‘Do you know where you got this at all?’ 

‘It’s just itchy. That’s all I know.’ 

‘Are you feeling okay otherwise?’

‘Just hard to keep track of things.’ He said, blinking his eyes. ‘Things come and go in my head. Hard to explain.’ 

‘Looks like you may have gotten bit or hurt.’ She just barely touched it and he flinched away from her touch.

‘Don’t touch it!’ He said, a brief flash of warning in his head. ‘Don’t know. But don’t touch it.’

‘I won’t then. Any other ideas about it?’

The Doctor, clueless, shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

‘Well, I may not be able to touch it but I can certainly see about putting something on it to take away the itch.’ 

‘Would you? That would be wonderful! It gets bad.’ 

‘I can tell. You’ve almost scratched the skin off around it.’ Clara led him into the kitchen and sat him down. ‘Try to not scratch it anymore.’ She told him as she went to the was hroom and got her small medical kit. ‘You know you’re a Time Lord?’

‘Time Lord?’ He furrowed his brows and place a hand on his chest. ‘Different from you, but what? Why?’ He shrugged helplessly. ‘I’m sorry, Clara. I don’t know!’ 

‘Shush. It’s okay, Doctor. We’ve used the simple stuff before on your smaller cuts and scrapes so I’ll presume those are still good to use. I’ll clean it up and cover it. That will help.’ She hoped. As gently as she could, she used an alcohol swab to clean the red patch. ‘It does look like there’s something right at the center of it. I’ll keep an eye on that. Maybe your body needs to fight it out on it’s own? Or if you like I could try and see if I can get it out? Like a splinter?’

‘No!’ He said sharply. 

‘Got it.’ Clara got a good sense that when he reacted that quickly and vehemently that it was an instinct reaction and probably something to pay attention to closely. Her Doctor was still there. Inside. Just not aware. 

He sat there, leaned forward as she cleaned his neck and then daubed on some antiseptic lotion. ‘You’re a nurse. Nurse to my Doctor?’ He asked, hopeful.

‘No, not a nurse I’m afraid. A teacher.’ Clara said as she opened a small gauze patch to place over the red area. 

‘A doctor and a teacher. Both helping people.’ He reached up and lay a hand on hers. ‘I can tell by how you touch me.’ 

‘Thanks.’ She blushed slightly, his tone and his touch were so tender. As if he did know who he was, that wouldn’t change about him. No matter what. Gauze applied and taped down, she teased his curls over it. 

‘Not just helping someone in general.’ The Doctor spoke softly. ‘Something more in that touch of yours, Clara.’ With a gentle guiding hand, he drew her round in front of him. ‘We know each other very well, don’t we?’

‘We do.’ Clara said. ‘For some years now.’ 

‘Thought so.’ Clara held her breath as he lifted her hand to his lips to kiss them. She should tell him that it wasn’t THAT sort of relationship but he didn’t really give her a chance. He was drawing her close and kissing her on the lips. The touch of his tongue ever so lightly on her lips made her heart stop. ‘Lovers.’ He whispered. ‘To touch like that, so open. I know it in my hearts, deep in my stomach.’ 

Clara ought to say something. He had the wrong idea. Yes, we care about one another but there’s no kissing! Her words remained only in her head though. The Doctor’s fingers were dancing on her cheek. How many times had she dreamed of this! Now it was happening. Only because he didn’t know himself but she didn’t want to stop him. If he did remember this, maybe it would be the beginning of something more for them. If the memory loss was permanent that he wouldn’t recall what happened for the duration, she could live with that and keep this as a beautiful memory. Let it play out, she told herself. 

Their eyes locked to one another’s and he was smiling at her. ‘Clara, my love.’ He drew a finger tip in a line over her lips. The Doctor kissed her again before he had another unfocused moment. ‘Damn’. He pressed his palms against his eyes, a groan in his throat. 

‘Time for you to rest then.’ Clara said. ‘Come, no arguments you’re getting the bed.’

‘Don’t leave me be on my own just because of this Clara.’ His eyes begged her. ‘It would be better if you just continued on the way we were.’

She bit her lip on the inside. She really ought to say something. ‘Will it be okay though?’

The Doctor was looking at her but his eyes were focussing much farther away. ‘You will be.’ Was all he said before his eyes closed tight. When he opened them, Clara could only see exhaustion in them. 

‘Bed then. Come on.’ Clara was helping him to the bedroom. Without missing a beat, he stripped himself bare and she could do nothing but follow suit. He presumed a lot! This is what his idea of a relationship was, she thought. At least in some unconscious part of his mind. 

He tried to lay on his back but it was uncomfortable. Instead, he turned on to his side, facing her. With an arm around her waist, he fell asleep quickly with just his steady hot breath on her neck. What was Clara going to do about this! Deep in her heart, she hoped that he did remember this and how they both felt. Reality though screamed at her. Please don’t let him remember one moment!

Clara awoke the next morning at first too sleepy to remember and then, with a start, realised he was in bed with her. Naked and curled against her. He fussed behind her, reacting to her surprise. Clara fought to settle herself a moment. Recalling what had happened the evening before, she took stock of what was going on. She would still have to go to work. No getting out of that! Get up and get ready for work. Let him sleep on. Then, the plan taking shape, she’d wake him to check on that sore, clean it and re-bandage it and then leave him here on his own for the day. What else could she do? With his memory in such a state she didn’t dare take him to work. No one there would have a hope of understanding him. 

For once, with the Doctor, it happened the way she hoped. He was still very sleepy when he sat up on the edge of the bed. Another swab, more antiseptic and a fresh gauze and she was soon helping him to lay back down. ‘Doctor Clara.’ He smiled at her, sounding almost as if he were drugged. ‘Any better?’

‘Less red now that you're not scratching it raw.’ Clara said. ‘There’s something lodged in your skin. It certainly looks like it anyway. I’m just going to keep it clean and let it work it’s way out. Unless you want me to have a go at lancing it out.’

‘No!’ 

Again there was an instinctual response from him. Her hand squeezed his shoulder. ‘No, we won’t. We’ll let it work out on it’s own.’ He nodded and accepted her directions to lie back and sleep again. 

Home from work, marking in her satchel, Clara arrived to find him sitting silently in the kitchen. The Doctor was just rubbing the back of his neck. ‘What’s wrong?’ 

‘Itchier.’ He said, clipped. ‘Couldn’t focus again.’ 

Clara came over to him, her satchel falling to the floor and forgotten about. ‘Is it sore at all?’ 

‘When I tilt my head back. Hurts then, like being squeezed.’ He looked paler. 

‘Doctor, let me have a look at it.’ Clara laid a hand briefly on his cheek, hoping to comfort him but felt only a tremor in his muscles. As gently as she could, the gauze came off. It was no longer red but there was a definite black hard lump in the center. She couldn’t help but gasp at it. 

‘Don’t.’ He said, reading her mind. ‘Same. Just the same.’ 

Clara just held her breath and cleaned the now-blackening patch and then more antiseptic. ‘What else can I do?’ She asked, hoping he would say something. 

‘Bed. Hold me.’ The Doctor blindly reached for her hand. She took it and did as he wanted. 

While he slept, she did the marking. He was unsettled for the most part, hands twitching against her skin. When she was finished, he returned her work to her satchel, padded to the front door and laid it there, ready to be grabbed the next morning on the way out. Returning, she watched him for some time. It was as if he was possessed the way his muscles were twitching and resting. The Doctor wasn’t resting. His body was fighting whatever it was that had taken him over. Clara got into bed beside him, feeling him tremble. 

A second morning of waking up beside the Doctor. He still had no memory and now he could barely move. ‘Clara...’ He groaned at her touch. ‘Still so soft.’

‘There has to be something more I can do.’ Clara said, her voice catching. Her fear now was that she would lose him to whatever it was happening to him just as she had found his intimate side. ‘Doctor! Please. What can I do?’

‘Love me.’ He mumbled. ‘Need to fight.’

‘Don’t you ever stop fighting!’ Clara told him, her hand gripping his forearm tight. He passed out for the moment so she once more changed the gauze, cleaning the patch. It had grown bigger. Just touching it lightly made his body shudder. Clara recovered it and then, holding him close, fell asleep.

His cries woke her shortly afterwards. ‘Doctor?’ Clara watched him struggling. ‘How can I help?’ There was no coherent response from him, just his muscles twitching and his hands opening and closing. Clara snapped on the light by the bed to look at him closely. The gauze, clean not long ago, was now stained with deep red stain streaked with black. ‘Doctor!’ She had to stop herself touching the gauze. His warning was still fresh in her mind. ‘Okay, you can’t help. I can’t touch. What can I do?’ Clara’s mind was running through scenarios. 

Don’t touch it, he said. But not to lance it either. So now, he was fighting it off. Clara kept going through the logic. ‘If you’re fighting it off, are you pushing it out? Or.. no! It’s draining on it’s own! Have to clean it off? Encourage it to come out on it’s own.’ Clara went to the kitchen and got an old large mixing bowl, filled it with water and got a package of marigold gloves. Two pairs, she thought. She took the bowl and a cloth to the bedroom, sat it on the side table and then returned for the gloves. 

Gloves on, doubled up, Clara removed the stained gauze and gasped at the mess oozing from his neck. It was thick and smelled but it was coming out. As lightly as possible she let the damp cloth rest on the wound, waited for it to absorb some of the infection (she was still guessing) and then rinsed it out. She kept repeating the process. At first it was mostly black thick stuff coming out but then, the blood began to tint it. As the blood flowed out, flushing the rest of the infection out, he began to settle. Finally, it was just fresh blood only and then it slowed and began to clot normally. His breathing slowed and then, she sighed, he fell asleep. Clara got up, tired and exhausted herself, took the bowl of filthy water to the kitchen. She didn’t dare toss it in the drains so, gloves off, she left the mess alone for now. Thoroughly washing her hands a number of times over, Clara finally felt clean enough to return to the bedroom. He was still laying on his front so she curled against him.

It was the phone that woke her, the headmaster wondering where she was. Clara hated to do it but she begged off sick for the day. She couldn’t have functioned properly if she tried. Not after last night. She fell back asleep with him at her side. 

The Doctor, his head still out of focus, was the first to wake next. Reaching up to his neck, he felt the gauze still there but no more lump or swelling. Twisting his head, he looked at Clara. ‘Who are you really to me?’ He whispered to her sleeping form. ‘I should know you.’ He stretched a hand to her, stroking her face. “Helped me. Loved me. I felt you. Clara, love me.’

In the silence of just their breathing, he watched her sleep. Finally, Clara stirred against him and he moved his arms to slip around her and edge her close to him. Her eyes opened on his, gazing at her. ‘I love you, Clara. Please love me?’

‘I do, Doctor.’ She said, resting a hand on his cheek. The Doctor looked at her and then was kissing her. Clara responded in kind, wanting him so badly. He had been in such agony and pain, she thought. If it had been worse, her breath caught in her throat. 

‘Clara, shh. I didn’t. I’m here. Alive. With you. Love me now.’ The Doctor’s voice eased her away from the unspoken fear in her heart and soon he was leading her into the most intimate moment they had ever had together. Clara never imagined that he would be as gentle and as loving as this, but he was and he was transporting her to a realm of exquisite pleasure to only bring her down when she couldn’t hold herself there any longer. Clara, her body trembling from her long drawn out orgasm, settled against the Doctor. His own hearts thumping hard from his efforts. Twined together, they fell asleep once more.

‘Clara?’ The Doctor, sat up with a start, grabbing a pillow and holding it over his groin area. ‘CLARA!’ His eyes bugged out. ‘YOU’RE NAKED!’

Clara came to with a start at his screech. ‘Doctor?’  
‘Clara! You.. you.. me!’ 

Clara’s eyes misted over. He didn’t remember it, she realised. ‘Doctor, please. Don’t run away.’ She reached to grip his arm. 

The tone in her voice made him pause. ‘What’s gone on? Last I recall I was in a jungle, trying to make my way back to the TARDIS. A vine caught me by surprise. What happened?’

‘Doctor, before we get into all of that.’ Clara sat up, not caring that she was naked. ‘I love you, Time Lord. And I know, somewhere in those hearts of yours that you feel the same. Can you admit that to me?’

The Doctor sat, frozen. His mind was a maelstrom of emotions. 

‘I thought you would die last night. Without knowing. And now you know.’

‘Clara.’ He looked at her, the intensity in her eyes displaying her emotions as naked as her body. ‘I’m not dead. I’m right here.’ He held her face in his hands but the words wouldn’t come. 

‘Please, Doctor. Do you love me?’

‘Clara. Clara Clara Clara.’ He whispered her name over and over. ‘I do. I love you so very much.’

She fell into his arms, kissing him and knowing that it was him the whole time. The truest part of him that she had been with all this time.


End file.
